


Veritaserum

by SweetDreamsAreMadeOfNaruto



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Bondage, Bottom Harry, Bottom Harry Potter, Dom Draco, Dom Harry, Drarry, Dubious Consent, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Love/Hate, M/M, Pining Draco Malfoy, Post-War, Power Bottom Harry, Power Struggle, Slash, Smut, Top Draco Malfoy, Veritaserum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDreamsAreMadeOfNaruto/pseuds/SweetDreamsAreMadeOfNaruto
Summary: Harry hasn’t seen Malfoy since the end of the war. He’s not happy he will have no choice but to do so today. Still… life has been usually dull, and some part of his misses their old enmity in Hogwarts. Will resisting the opportunity to mess with him be too hard for Malfoy?





	Veritaserum

Harry fidgeted awkwardly, allowing himself to do so the few precious moments he still had for himself. He glanced to the doorway for any sign of his host, whom so far had yet to make an appearance.

Harry had arrived at the fireplace by floo punctually at three o’clock where a house-elf had met him and shown him to a spacey, airy room that appeared to be some sort of study. Not as formal at he’d expected, but then, it would have been superfluous to use the conference hall when it only were the two of them. Harry had been told he was expected, been served tea, and then left alone while the house-elf had left to inform her master of his arrival. Almost five minutes had passed since. Harry drummed nervously on the couch a few times before he willed himself to stop.

He’d been against the entire idea if coming here, and not for the first time was reconsidering his decision in declining the offer to become the Mister of Magic… if only to have had the authority to turn down this request or give it to another person.

He did not want to be here.

Though the Malfoys had lost much after the war, the new business was blooming and they were yet again one of the richest and most respected families in England – but this time, it was _Draco Malfoy_ that was the head of the family, and it was _he_ that had been the one to raise the dying family business up from the ashes. It appeared that Draco Malfoy’s stubbornness in leaving Harry alone at Hogwarts and his constant taunting and evil schemes could be turned into raw potential and a cunning mind for business when he straightened out his priories. While Malfoy always seemed to fail at attempting something destructive, he was brilliant at building things up, and was arguably one of the youngest, most successful wizards in the word. More surprising was that Malfoy, unlike his father, seemed to go against everything Harry had ever learned about the Slytherin House by making fair deals and upholding honesty.  No charges against the company. No blackmail. No slithering.  If anything, Draco Malfoy had cleared the family name since he took over.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t think Malfoy was unworthy of the Ministry’s time. Or that he thought he lacked the right to consult officials. He’d not done anything questionable since the end of the war, and even a git like him deserved a second chance. It was just that it was _Draco Malfoy_ and Harry wished he hadn’t requested _Harry Potter_ so specifically. Surely, anyone could do this. Anyone. There was no need for Harry to be here and feel lukewarmly uncomfortable. No real danger, but not safe, either. He’d tried to forgive Malfoy, but after so many years of enmity the habit of diligence around him just didn’t seem to go away.

They hadn’t really been in contact with since they left Hogwarts. Harry had spoken for him and his mother at their trial after the war, but he had kept his distance. They had seen each other briefly, but always been surrounded by their own crowds, or been nothing more than another passerby in the streets of Diagon Ally. The feeling of Malfoy being up mischief today was over-bearably strong, and Harry couldn’t make himself at ease. It was as if it was unthinkable that their reunion would be untainted, that nothing shady would happen.

In some inexplicable way, maybe Harry would even be disappointed if it was.

He remembered Kingsley Shacklebolt’s words all too well. _“You need to lay down your guard.”_ And if Kingsley said something like that, it truly must mean he was being paranoid. This wasn’t Fudge they were talking about. And it wasn’t only Shacklebolt. It was everyone. Everyone wanted him to get along with Malfoy as if they were best friends, as if their friendship was the only way to know for sure that Voldemort’s reign was over for good.

Hermione had as good as forgiven him, and amazingly, even Ron had started to warm up to him after being forced to work with him a number of times. Harry found himself feeling severely abandoned. And it wasn’t only his friends that had been ensnared. Despite not using as under-handed methods as his father, Draco Malfoy had a certain power over the Ministry these days.  While most of the advantages of being a Pureblood had been revoked – and what little his family name still would have been able to accomplish in giving him an advantage, his former Death Eater status evened out – he had a certain charm and charisma that often put him in good graces with the higher ups. He also had a habit of donating money to most projects started by the government, be if for educational, social or cultural means, that seemed to sway even those ruled by old prejudice and fears in his favor. Despite not wanting to believe it as a child – and refusing to live by it as an adult – money truly did ‘run the world’ and Malfoy’s success where other reformed Death Eaters failed miserly proved that.

Now that the Ministry had gotten used to getting a certain sum every few months, heaven forbid they should so anything to upset Malfoy and give him any reason to withdraw his contributions. The loss of the money would be harder presently than if it had only been unfulfilled promises. Malfoy had donated money to the Ministry for years now, and they’d become dependent on it. Really, it was nothing but backhanded bribing – Draco Malfoy was still a Slytherin at heart, after all.

And though Harry didn’t know why, for the last past years Malfoy had tried to get him alone. Harry had managed to slip through his fingers time and time again, but now Malfoy had finally reached his goal.  Harry was convinced it wasn’t simply for the matter of recalling old school days with him.

He threw the steaming tea a suspicious glance. It smelled good, but he did not trust it. The clock ticked. How long would it take his former and present nemesis to make an appearance? While Harry and Malfoy had been perfectly civil to each other for years, they’d had minimal interaction, and school nemesis did not have any past-due-date. As a way to pass the time, Harry added two sugars to his tea and filled the cup to the brim with milk. Another timid-looking house-elf appeared with cookies, and was gone before Harry had time to thank her, as if afraid Harry had the power to make Malfoy appear and throw her a sock if she stayed too long in his company.

Just as Harry considered getting up to snoop around, Draco Malfoy entered the room with a disturbingly handsome smile. He’d always been easy on the eyes, and the years since they left Hogwarts had rather added charm than anything else.  Perhaps it was the lack of tension or the absence of a constant death-threat of his family that had really made the difference.  The air around him was not quite as haughty as it had once been, though he still carried a certain degree of arrogance and superiority. The smirk managed to be friendly, aggravating and provoking at the same time.

“Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “I really am happy you could come.”

Harry had to bite his tongue to not spit out that _that_ hadn’t exactly been his choice. He gave him a courtesy nod, and he took a zip of the tea to get an excuse for his silence. It had just the right amount of sweetness, and the flavor was soft and creamy on his tongue. Harry felt his nerves recover, if only a little. Malfoy put down a low pile of papers on a table to the left of the room – probably papers Harry would have to sign the Ministry’s approval of – before taking a seat in the matching couch in front of him.

Harry could feel Malfoy watching him, and his fingers inched with the desire to grab the bunch of papers and sign them all just to get it over with. He had a feeling the git would make this a very drawn-out trial. Malfoy was sure to make the most of the time he had.

“Well, we meet again,” said Malfoy. “Isn’t this pleasant?”

“No.” The answer seemed to roll of his tongue and slip out between lips before even the word had even registered in his mind. Harry’s head snapped up, and he met Malfoy’s smug looking eyes. He didn’t look bothered by his reply at all – if anything, his grin widened, temporarily giving him a look of roguish boyishness rather than that of a sophisticated CEO.

While Harry hadn’t planned to be more civil than required to do his work, he knew better than to anger the entire Ministry by ruining this. Especially not over some harmless pleasantries.

But…

Grey eyes flicked down to his cup, and that was all the clue Harry needed.

Veritaserum.

Harry stood up harshly, wand in hand, eyes throwing burning daggers at the aristocratic looking business man. How _dare_ he? He knew something like this would happen. He knew it, and in a way, it excited him. Things had been far too boring for far too long. He needed this. He needed to fight again.

Accusing words were on his tongue when Malfoy interrupted him.

“Something wrong, Potter?” he drawled lazily, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head backward to easier meet his eyes. The familiar sneer had returned.

_Yes._

Harry only managed to hold back the word of truth by biting so hard into his lip he drew blood. Malfoy’s eyes were mocking. Taunting. He’d be in so much trouble for doing this, but he acted as if it was only a harmless prank done when they were back in Hogwarts.

It was a dare.

_“Scared, Potter?”_

He could hear the words echo in his mind. A phrase he never quite managed to forget. Harry glared at him. Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. The action didn’t need decoding.

_Are you going to run to the teachers… or will you play with me?_

“I’m fine,” he snarled.  He sat back in the chair demonstratively. Sometimes, he worried over how little he’d changed since his schooldays. Surely, adults were supposed to have grown up and became mature somewhere along the way. 

(Surely, he was supposed to be genuinely offended over this, not intrigued.)

Malfoy’s grin widened, showing perfect, white teeth, and he seemed rather enticed over the way Harry defied the Veritaserum rather than to be disappointed, which, in a way, reassured Harry there was no real threat in this. Malfoy wasn’t out to hurt him, he was simply being an asshole, and maybe, just like the part Harry tried to conceal within himself, he missed their old interactions. Because as much as Harry hadn’t wanted to meet Malfoy, still didn’t want to meet him, it would be a straight-out lie to say he hadn’t missed this. He’d missed playing spy, fighting the villain, and Draco Malfoy had obviously missed to go out of his way to annoy Harry. Whereby in the past it had been serious, now was more of a mutual game. Others might have been concerned that Malfoy was openly mocking a Ministry official, but Harry knew better. While he’d never imagined he’d miss his and Malfoy’s little scenes, life was far too dull with no action. He’d never wanted Voldemort. Never wanted to be the Boy Who Lived. But as for Draco Malfoy… while he’d never asked for him either, life without him was simply too peaceful. Just as the Ministry had become dependent on Malfoy’s money, Harry had become dependent on him brewing trouble. The absence had almost left a hole in Harry’s life once they left Hogwarts.

Holding his gaze, Harry lifted his cup and drowned over half of the stuff, burning his throat sore as he did so.  It was weird, Harry thought, that he somehow must have learned to trust Draco Malfoy, after all. At least, trust him enough to know he’d be in no real danger if he basically drowned himself in Veritaserum in defiance, simply to make a point.

Draco didn’t quite manage to conceal his surprise, nor that he was undeniably impressed. It was a display of power, really. Between them, it always had been.

Then a fuzzy, fluttering feeling overtook his head, and all surroundings seemed to swirl. Harry barely managed to keep upright, much less his face. The smirk returned to Malfoy’s face, and Harry’s brows furrowed in discomfort. He hadn’t heard much of Veritaserum’s side-effects before, probably because few people overdosed in like he did, and Malfoy hadn’t expected him to take any more once he realized he’d been drugged, and had thereby measured it by that calculation that one sip would have to be strong enough to do the trick. But in the end, Veritaserum was a form of drug, and right now, his head spun. He felt as if he’d gotten stuck in floo without any destination in sight. He tried not to let his weakness show, being fully aware Malfoy would take advantage of it. His heart picked up speed, and he wasn’t sure if it was another side-effect of the serum or caused by the sudden vulnerability. Being quite possibly the strongest wizard of his time, Harry so rarely got to feel under-powered.

Malfoy stood up. Harry tried to keep his eyes firmly on him, but the movement made him dizzy. To follow suit was out of question, at least for the time being.

“Who are you?” Malfoy demanded.

It was impossible not to answer. “Harry James Potter,” he said, though it felt stupid to answer such a question. The room seemed to be teetering, and Harry forced himself to sit up straight.

“Where are you working?”

“Ministry, Auror Department.”

“How long have you worked there?”

“Seven years, two months and thirteen days.” If he’d been asked without the Veritaserum, he’d never have been able to answer that exactly. The questions were not anything Malfoy didn’t already know or couldn’t find out on his own. He was just testing him. Testing the effects of the serum. And right now, Harry lacked the concentration to fight it. He tried to gather his thoughts, but his head ached.

“Married?”

“Divorced.”

Malfoy’s grin turned feral, and he took a step closer. “I know. Why?”

Was this why Malfoy had chosen to use Veritaserum on him? Because he wanted to find out something private about him? Harry would have gritted his teeth, but the drug was still turning his brain into thick wool. The over-dose overtook his mind. He didn’t even manage to bite thoroughly into his lip.

“I adored Ginny,” he found himself saying. “I was infatuated with the idea of marriage. I wanted to be a part of the Weasley family, and with Ron marrying Hermione, everything seemed meant to be. After defeating Voldemort, I just wanted to settle down, and live a normal life. However, I-“

It took every ounce of will-power to stop taking, and his lips was still parted, barley holding back the words that threatened to leave his mouth. This was too personal. Malfoy had no right.

Besides, the one thing Draco Malfoy could never know…

_I am still obsessing over you._

Even though Harry had basically ignored Draco Malfoy for almost a decade – unless absolutely unable to do so – he was still on his mind entirely too often. Blond hair caught his attention the way red never would. He might not pretend like it, but the name _Draco Malfoy_ shone out to him in newspapers, and Harry found himself wondering what he was doing now, and was he still as much of a git and-

Oh well. He’d gotten the answer to that question now, at least.

In the beginning, whenever he heard or read anything about him, he’d scowl. But then Malfoy spoke for Muggle-borns. Donated books to Hogwarts. Gave money to hospitals. Harry had tried to tell himself he was doing it all for appearances sake, but then he stumbled upon unofficial charity that could be nothing else but Malfoy’s doing. After a while, articles about his success evoked smiles, sometimes even caused him to grin.

Still, Harry’s obsession had ruined his marriage. How much he tried, he simply couldn’t find Ginny interesting enough to compete. He’d feel like scum when Ginny talked about her day and all Harry could think about was what mischief Malfoy was up to. But it wasn’t only that. If he looked at it honestly, their relationship had been flawed from the start. They’d gotten married to quickly, and Harry had gotten married more for the sake of marriage itself than his and Ginny’s love.

Ginny was… flighty. She had loved Harry, and though Harry had known that, knew she’d never cheat on him and that he could trust her fully, it annoyed him insanely whenever Ginny flirted with other men. He didn’t deny her male friends, of course, but the lingering hugs, brief peaks on cheeks and sweet words made the beast inside him growl in discontent. Ginny was flirty by nature, but she also enjoyed whirling men around her fingers. In her opinion, it was just harmless fun. And it might as well be, it was just that it drove Harry insane. He’d tried to get over it, reason that his jealousy would disappear as the years passed and he got more confident in their relationship, but it didn’t. He tried to control it, and rarely showed how much it bothered him, but the jealousy was like a poison. After only two years of marriage they started falling out of love, and Harry didn’t have the will anymore to fight for their relation. By then, it’d become clear it just wouldn’t work. Maybe he should have spoken to Ginny earlier about it, instead of gritting his teeth and enduring it, fearing she would take it the wrong way, assume he thought he owned her and wanted to control how she lived her life. Maybe then they’d have been able to reach a compromise, or an understanding. But he didn’t, and it killed their marriage. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe people with such different perceptions couldn’t live together in the long run. Most people might have been alright with it, but Harry just couldn’t be content living like that. He was only glad they hadn’t had any children that would have to suffer by the divorce.

Things had been slightly stained between them for a while, but they were good friends again. Ginny had remarried, and her first child was now on its way. Harry had been eased, because he’d felt really bad about being the one to call things off. They had had a huge fight and it had been days before Ginny calmed down enough to speak with him again. However, after being given some times to think about it, she had agreed with the decision. He knew he’d hurt her, but he also know that staying with her would have hurt her even more. Ginny deserved someone who truly loved her.

He snapped back to reality when Malfoy approached him, hand coming to lift his chin as he stopped between Harry’s legs. “And?” he probed.

Harry’s mouth opened to answer, but then snapped shut as the suspicions came. The anger helped him fight the Veritaserum. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps Malfoy didn’t really care about them at all, nor their stupid rivalry at Hogwarts – perhaps all he wanted to do was to dig up dirt. Merlin knew it was almost impossible to keep the press out of anything already as it was. He didn’t need a new scandal now that Ginny had moved on. He didn’t need to have old wounds reopened.

Harry jerked free.

“None of your business, Malfoy,” he spit out.

Malfoy placed a hand over his heart as if in pain. “Oh,” he said, apparently not having lost his flair for drama over the years. “Do you mean to tell me I wasn’t the reason you broke up with Weasley? I am absolutely shattered! And here I thought I affected everything in The Great Harry Potter’s life!”

A harmless comment. Really. It was obvious it was Malfoy’s last word. Harry’s harsh words had made him give up on any further questioning. Harry had seen it. Yet, the Veritaserum had him replying before he knew it.

“No,” Harry’s mouth said, and he groaned as Malfoy, who’d just turned away from him, spun back. Harry hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean yes. No. _Urg_ h.” The shock he could see didn’t surprise him, but the unexpected interest startled him. Why did Malfoy care?

Embarrassment had all anger melt away when matters turned back to him and Malfoy alone, leaving Ginny safely out of the picture.

“I _had_ something to do with it?”

Harry started chewing on the inside of his chin. “Don’t be stupid,” Harry said, refusing to meet Malfoy’s eyes least he saw the lie. Snape had always said that he showed his emotions way too easily, and lying on Veritaserum was hard enough as it was. Rage dying away, it seemed to become more difficult by the minute.

“I do? What – you’re attracted to blokes?” It was said in a voice of disbelief while smiling at amusement on his expense, but genuine curiosity gleamed in dark, silvery eyes when Harry’s eyes darted to his face for just a moment.

“Eh…” Harry said.

Malfoy seemed to straddle him in a moment, pushing him back against the coach, and Harry let out a wordless gasp.

“Are you attracted to men?” Malfoy breathed, voice huskily all of a sudden, and warm air washing over his neck, lips brushing against his ear. Harry gripped hard into the sofa. His mind was racing. The headache was disappearing, and he didn’t feel quite as dizzy as before, yet there was a new fuzziness, not to be blamed by the serum, that kept him immobile.

“Sometimes,” Harry groaned. Straight out lies seemed entirely impossible to form any more, and it was only barely he’d kept a ‘yes’ from falling off his lips earlier. That the probably most gorgeous wizard Harry had ever met was the one to ask the question didn’t exactly help. Hell, he could probably bend straights if he wanted to. Sometimes, Harry wondered if he really was attached to men as well as women, or if it was simply Draco Malfoy. For all Harry knew, he could have that effect of anyone. Still, he could make it should like he didn’t care for the git by forming his words carefully.  “That doesn’t have to mean _you_ interest me, Malfoy.”

“Of course not.” Malfoy’s eyes glinted with amusement, and in that second, Harry realized he saw right through the attempt and was merely humoring him. “So. Was I involved in your decision to get divorced?”

“Er…”

Malfoy pressed his chest against Harry’s body. A delicate, expensive scent of sandalwood and spices engulfed him. It wasn’t overbearingly strong, but the faint scent was very much there, indulging his senses. It smelled as aristocratic as Malfoy dressed or choose his furniture. Harry would bet whatever cologne Malfoy used was worth more than his entire outfit.

“Potter,” Malfoy hissed, and Harry felt goosebumps breaking out on his arms. Thank Merlin he was covered in official uniform rather than a preferred t-shirt. “Was I one of the contributing factors to your divorce?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“ _How_?” He could hear the confusion.

Even if he had been capable of lying, he’d have no satisfying explanations.

“Um.” Harry was panting softy now, desperately trying to calm his breathing. He knew he should hex Malfoy into next week, but to just throw away this proximity felt hard beyond belief. It should be easy, knowing Malfoy was just toying with him, but he was so close, and smelled so intoxicating.

Lips pulled teasingly over his jaw, briefly brushed down his neck.

_Ah, fuck._

Harry shuddered.

“Are you attracted to me?”

“…”

“Well?” Malfoy insisted. “Tell me.”  Before he knew to act, hands had slipped under his shirt and where moving over his torso.  Harry made a sound of protest, and Malfoy pinned him harder into the couch, the movement making his hips buckle against Harry’s.  A gasp left his lips, and sensing the weakness, Malfoy grid harder against him.  He started a slow, regular movement, which could not really be described as anything else but shameless dry-humping. Harry tried to hold his tongue, but a tortured moan slipped out. It became impossible to focus on defying the Veritaserum.

 “Potter. How was I a reason for you to divorce?”

“I-I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he gasped.

There was a moment of stillness, and then Malfoy pushed Harry back with his arm against his throat, pinning it back and meeting his eyes in a glare. “I know that’s a lie. Though all these years you’ve never-“

“It is true!” said Harry, against better judgment.

“No,” said Malfoy, steely eyes turning colder, more closed off. “I always wanted that, didn’t I?  But you always brushed me off.”

“Malfoy-“

“What are you trying to achieve?” Malfoy sneered. “The only times I’ve been worthy of your attention is when I’m up to no good. Why, with how boring I’ve been lately I doubt I’ve crossed your mind for _years_.”

“What am _I_ trying to achieve – Malfoy, you’re the one who got me drugged!”

Harry got the weird, inexplicable feeling _his_ acceptance mattered to Malfoy, and that somehow he’d hoped Harry would befriend him now that he’d changed his ways, but that Harry hadn’t, and he’d been disappointed. Only, the very thought was absolutely _absurd_. Sure, Malfoy might have wanted to become his friend once, but that was ages ago. And yet, thinking back… Malfoy might have tried to engage in conversations with him those few times their paths had crossed, and Harry had brushed him off rather than to wait for an insult that was sure to come. It was also the undeniable fact he’d searched Harry out.  Still, it was only preposterous to assume Malfoy cared about his opinion. He couldn’t possibly understand why Malfoy was upset over his confession – if anything, Harry had thought he’d taunt him with it for the rest of his life.

Malfoy leaned closer. Tilted his head, lips dangerously close to Harry’s own. “Does this bother you, _Harry_?”

His heart was beating hard, and he could hear the low thud in his ears. “Yes,” he said.

Malfoy smirked. Eyes dropped to his mouth, met his again. Harry swallowed. A hand curled around his neck, holding him down against the couch as Malfoy leaned over him.  Warm air hit his lips. Harry would have betted anything Malfoy could hear his rapid breathing now. Malfoy licked his lips seductively. Harry felt as frozen as if someone had used a hex on him.

“Bad enough to take notice of?” Malfoy whispered.

It was only at that very moment he realized Malfoy truly had cast a wordless freezing spell on him, and he’d been too distracted to notice.  Drugging and now forceful retaining? Yeah, this was more like the Malfoy he knew. All his senses were tingling with warning of trouble sure to come.

He was caught.

Malfoy didn’t appear to intend to break his nose this time, however.

“Scared… Potter?”

“Yes,” he said, because for some reason he could still talk, and Veritaserum was coursing stronger than ever through his veins.  And for some reason, this _did_ scare him.

If Malfoy didn’t stop playing seducer soon, there would be no way for him to hold back a hard-on.

Still keeping his face centimeters away from Harry’s own, Malfoy gripped his tie and tugged at it.

“I like that expression.”

Hands undid the knot, fingers unbuttoned his cloak and trailed down the shirt underneath. Harry gritted his teeth.

“S-stop,” he said, attempting to use an authoritative voice that failed so miserably it was pathetic, really.

“Why should I?”

Harry blushed. “Because if you don’t, I-“

“Will hex me to next week?” Malfoy interrupted, sneering. “Potter, I assure you, as long as you’re bound by this spell, you won’t move. You’re hardly in a position to make demands. For once, you’re in _my_ mercy.” Amusement danced in his eyes, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. Malfoy shifted in his lap, stretched out against him, his breath falling against his lips. “Come on. Beg.”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry said, rather desperately, instead of reminding Malfoy that yes, as Head Auror, he could indeed make life hell for him once he got out of this mess. But for now, there were much more pressing matter. Like getting Malfoy out of his lap before he revealed just _how much_ this was affecting him and just _how much_ he was indeed attracted to him.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “What’s the urgency?”

“I-“Harry blushed, feeling heat stir in his groin. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Malfoy’s reaction. “ _Fuck_.”

He’d be disgusted, no doubt, though it would serve him right. What did Malfoy think he was – a machine? Even if he hadn’t been into blokes the provoking movements and pressure alone would have been enough to trigger a reaction. He just couldn’t control that.

“That’s… interesting.” Fingers ghosted over his bulge, and Harry’s eyes snapped open.

“Keep off!”

A hand sized his chin. “Make me.”

Harry couldn’t seem to answer as he leaned in, leaned closer…

Kissing was too intimate. Kissing felt as if exposing a part of himself he couldn’t just show anyone.  Especially not Malfoy, who was already way too much under his skin already. Yet the suggestion made him grow harder and he doubtlessly knew Malfoy could feel that, too.

“Let me go,” he rasped out.

Malfoy huffed, but, to Harry’s amazement, lifted the invisible bounds on him and climbed off.

“Back to business, then,” he said, turning back to his chair. He gave an infuriating smirk over his shoulder. “No hard feelings, eh, _Harry_?”

Something snapped inside him.

With a low growl, Harry threw himself at him, pinning Malfoy to the floor. His fist collided with his jaw before Malfoy caught his hand, eyes meeting in a fiery stare-down. 

“Going to beat me bloody, Potter?” he drawled, looking far too disconcerted about the possibility.

Harry didn’t know how long he glared at him, wishing his eyes to kill, be it minutes or seconds, because it felt like an eternity. Yet he still couldn’t voice his frustration with him.  And Malfoy didn’t divert his eyes. All he knew was that quite some time must have passed when Malfoy used his free hand to grip the nape of Harry’s neck, pulling him down in a sudden jerk so their lips all but touched. This time, his freeze-like trance had more to do with inability to make a decision rather than any spell cast on him.

Pull away… or lean in?

“Fuck me up bad,” Malfoy said, and Harry lost it.

He crashed his lips against Malfoy’s with a low growl, tasting metal within a second. He didn’t know who’d gotten bitten hard enough to bleed, but it wouldn’t have surprised him if it were both of them.  Malfoy was definitely the slower kisser, but not any less dominant.  Rather than to yield to Harry’s roughness, he seemed to try to tame him to go at his pace. Harry tugged harshly at blond hair, forcefully making Malfoy arch back and let out a low groan. Malfoy’s hands wandered, slipping under his shirt, tracing abs and clawing softly down his back, sending delicious shivers down his spine. But Harry was unwilling to give up his new-found control and grasped the hands, holding them down to the carpeted floor. Harry sucked marks into his neck, blunt nails digging into pale wrists.

Malfoy hissed, raised his knee, and pulled it up between Harry’s legs.  The sharp movement caused pain, and Harry lost his grip on Malfoy’s hands. Malfoy sized his shirt, jerking him down and half-choking him at the same time. Harry stumbled, falling forward into his chest. It was difficult to breathe. Malfoy’s knee pressed harder against his groin, seemed to dig between his buttocks, and Harry let out a shallow whimper against Malfoy’s shoulder.

Malfoy chuckled darkly, fingertips of his free hand following the back of Harry’s thigh, tracing circle like movements over his ass. Fingers slipped under his belt – when did he unbuckle it? – and glided down over naked skin, pushing down his pants as he went.

Harry attempted to pull free, but Malfoy tightened his grip on his collar, holding him in place, as his fingers slipped lower.  Malfoy pulled back his hand, wetting his fingers with saliva before they returned, cool wetness brushing against his entrance. Harry’s heart hammered hard in his chest, lungs taking in shallow gasps. One of his hands tightened around Malfoy’s wrist, the other attempting to free himself by unclasping fingers gripping into cloth.

It took Malfoy growling at him to be still, and himself to freeze at the order, for him to realize that if he truly didn’t want this, Malfoy’s would have been half-dead by now. Yet that did little to ease the panic threatening to overtake him. That he wanted Malfoy was hardly consoling.

While same-sex couples was, in theory, accepted in most places these days – perhaps even more so among the wizarding communities than among Muggles – it was still met with awkwardness and an air of unwritten taboo in practice. In a way, it was a little like how many Pureblood families saw Muggle-borns after the war. They were acceptable, just as long as you weren’t one. Or your friends. Or your family.

It was weird. Strange. Different. And, looked down upon.

Two wizards having sex was on the very top of the unwritten lists of Acceptable-But-In-Words-Only and Legally-Forbidden-Behavior, placed only under wizards or witches marrying Muggles, Purebloods giving birth to squibs and a former Death Eater becoming the Ministry of Magic.

And while the Boy Who Lived might get away with it… Purebloods engaging in homosexual acts did not. It was difficult enough to keep the Pureblood families around as it was and anyone who did not perform their duty to the family was resented. As an only child, Draco Malfoy was under even more pressure to produce an heir for the coming generation. And hadn’t he been engaged to Pansy since the last year of Hogwarts..?

If this reached the wrong ears, Malfoy’s future could be ruined.

“Draco, don’t-“

“Do you dislike what I’m doing?”

“N-no,” the Veritaserum forced him to say. “But-“

The finger slipped inside, and Harry’s fingers curled into Malfoy’s cloak, biting back a gasp. When he tried to reason further, Malfoy shushed him.  Only when he stopped struggling was the grip on his shirt was finally abandoned – Harry felt practically boneless at this point – allowing him to take a big gulp of air.  But then long fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Merlin,” Harry gasped.

He seemed unable resist the temptation to let his hand slip under Malfoy’s cloth himself, to caress warm, soft skin. It felt as smooth as a girl’s, though the hard, muscular body against his felt nothing as such.

Malfoy’s fingers tightened around him, and Harry let out a low groan, buckling into his hand.  Remembering not to simply be on the receiving end, his hand drifted lower, down Malfoy’s flawlessly sculptured abdomen, and followed a thin hairline that started a few centimeters bellow his bellybutton. As his hand drifted under his pants he tugged gently at the hair, causing Malfoy to tense and falter in his movements. Harry thought momentarily that was a bad thing, but the low, approving moan told otherwise. Harry used his left hand push silky blond hair from Malfoy’s face, letting his fingers flow through the thin, soft untangled stands while his right hand tugged at coarser pubic hair, marveling over the contrast. After repeating the action a few times he could feel Malfoy’s erection against his thigh and his hand curled around Malfoy’s length. The warmth felt surprisingly  good in his hand. Hard, but the skin was so sinfully soft. Pulsing with life. Foreign, yet familiar in a way a woman’s body would never be to him.

Then he realized, again, what he was doing and why this was _not_ a good idea.

No matter how sexy Malfoy was, he wasn’t Harry’s to touch. It didn’t exactly help that the git had no sense of self-presentation when it came to getting one over Harry, but he couldn’t do this. As a former Death Eater, he faced enough difficulties without Harry having to make it worse. It was really no wonder, after all these years of fighting, that sexual tension had risen between them, and Harry should have foreseen that the feeling might have been mutual, but this was still not a good idea. At all. The beast in his abdomen was growling in discontent at the mere idea of stopping now, trying to persuade him that Malfoy had asked for this and both wanted this and it needed only be once, but then it contradicted itself by saying that Draco was his, _always_ , and Harry couldn’t allow some stupid primitive part of him control his actions any more. No matter how fucking beautiful Draco Malfoy was.

So he withdrew immediately and attempted to stand up.  But before he’d really gotten anywhere Malfoy shoved him to he lost his balance. He rolled over him until Harry was the one pinned down, and pushed the finger still inside his ass _that_ much deeper, and Harry remembered that he wasn’t the only in on this and that just because he’d started listen to reason, that didn’t mean Malfoy would. Another finger was added, driven inside him just _so_ , leaving Harry gasping and writhing.

Harry tried to sit up, but was held down. He tried to push Malfoy off, and was given another demonstration of excellently preformed word-less magic in return that had Harry’s arms tied to the floor and Harry growling in frustration over having been too honorable to use magic against Malfoy himself, and that it now was too late since he couldn’t get to his wand anymore.  Malfoy smiled a very Slytherin-like smirk, and Harry wished he’d accepted his more devious ways a little earlier because now that the Gryffindor habits had been drilled into his head, they seemed impossible to shake.

He realized, that the moment he’d confirmed he liked what Malfoy was doing, he was fucked. Probably already when he kissed him. Pinned him to the floor. Drunken that tea.

“This,” he managed to rasp out, “is not a good idea.”

“And why is that… Potter?” His fingers slipped in and out, moving so slow, and Harry bit his lip to not beg him to thrust harder. What the hell had come over him?

“Because…. your reputation,” was all he managed to say, causing a wave of heat to wash over his face because really, honest as it might be, that was _not_ convincing and also an extremely embarrassing thing to admit he cared about. Form Malfoy’s point of view, it was a purely worthless reason to back off.

“Why, Potter, I didn’t think you cared,” he said mockingly.

“Just let me go,” Harry snarled, fighting against his restraints. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

“I’m only trying out the new Veritaserum I’ve managed to develop,” said Malfoy innocently. “Well, no, it’s not really a new potion. I’ve just tried to improve the old one.”

“Potions?” Harry said, unintelligibly.

“Just a pass-time of mine.”

“And I’m your test-subject?”

“You seemed ideal, since you’ve managed to resist the old version.”

“It’s working,” he said, willing Malfoy to back off now that he’d gotten that confirmed. He squeezed his eyes shut, realizing his words were painfully true. Rather than for its effects to fade, as Harry had assumed they would, it seemed to be growing stronger. Just the thought of attempting to lie hurt his head, but he’d been too distracted to notice until Malfoy brought it up. “It’s really working. Better. Better than the other. Much better,” he babbled, though of course he couldn’t be entirely sure if this was because he had over-dosed or if the potion itself was stronger.  Either way, Harry feared he’d tell Malfoy just about anything in this moment.

Was that the sole reason Malfoy had come onto him? To bid his time? The thought made his stomach lurch unpleasantly.

“That’s great you say that Potter, but you see, it works that much better if the victim is distracted. Or unaware. Which you are not, presently. However… I believe I can _make_ you both.”

“I’m not a _victim_ -“

“Why did you save me from that fire?”

“I couldn’t let you die,” he said, prodded by the Veritaserum to do so.  Really, it was that simple. But Malfoy snorted.

“Why?”

“I’m a Gryffindor,” he said, momentarily more frustrated over the fact that proud over it. He frowned. It was the Gryffindor part of him that had gotten him into this trouble in the first place. “And if you’d die, I’d miss you.” The last part wasn’t supposed to even enter his mind, much less leave his lips.  “I couldn’t lose you,” Harry’s treasonous lips confided, humiliating him even further.

“Really?” Malfoy sounded humored. Almost excited.  His voice could even be taken for hopeful. And that was enough to Harry’s anger, that had been roused when he realized Malfoy used him as a lab rat, of all things – to instantly subside.

“Yes,” he muttered, subdued.

“You know, I don’t know whether or not to believe you truly care or if you’re just using this opportunity to get back at me.”

“How would this get back at you?”

“By making me think you care,” Malfoy sneered, as if in reality, he’d claimed the very opposite – that Harry’s opinions was so far below him he wouldn’t give a wit whether Harry died or not. His words, as cold as they sounded, told a entirely different story, and Harry realized that yes, it was true – Draco Malfoy was actually still affected by that rejection so long ago. Maybe even hurt. He never was quite as tough as he pretended to be, was he?

“I do care.” The words left his mouth a little too warmly, and he was quite sure the Veritaserum was to blame. Malfoy’s sneering attitude run off him like water and grey eyes searched his in almost childish wonder. That Malfoy reacted that strongly to his words make Harry’s throat tighten.

_Does really does care that much about what I think of him?_

“Yes, I _would_ like to believe that.” Malfoy pushed deeper as if in punishment. Harry let out a choked sound. “But _really_ , it’s hardly as if it matter or not whether you do. I’m not as arrogant as to believe I’d be worth _The Chosen One’s_ time of the day.” Grey eyes darkened, turned almost black. “After all, I’m just a heartless Death Eater. Isn’t that right, _Harry_?”

He should be angry Malfoy refused to believe him.

He really should be. 

But _fuck_ if not pissed-off Malfoy was sexy as hell. And the way he spoke his name… it had never sounded better, really. He trembled; sweat beading on his eyebrow and a shiver of anticipation running down his spine.

“God, Malfoy,” he said with difficulty. “I don’t think that.”

“Of course you don’t,” Malfoy whispered quietly. “After all… you’re the Golden Boy. Our _Savior_.  You’re oh-so-perfect and you believe the best and inner good everyone.”  Malfoy smirked cruelly, fingers moving inside him, coming to rest against a particular spot that seemed to drive Harry mad. He couldn’t think. Malfoy leaned closer, hot mouth closing over his neck and a slick tongue flicking out over his skin. Harry whimpered, and he could feel Malfoy’s lips curl against his neck.

“Oh, if I had known about this… _weakness_ … a little earlier, Potter…” he murmured against his ear. “I could have had so much fun with you…”

Harry shivered.

“What about Pansy?”

“Pansy?” said Malfoy, and right then and there, Harry hated the woman for even being born. For her name to ever leave those lips.  For-

“Our breakup is so old news that’s not even considered an argument, Potter.”

“I- I didn’t know,” said Harry.

“Nice try,” said Malfoy. His fingers still rested with that feather-light touch that was pure evil, designed to be the death of him. “Come on,” he breathed, “You know, I might still stop if you just tell me the right thing...”

“W-what?”

“I don’t want to hear any crap about my reputation. Tell me why I should stop for _you_.”

That was not likely to happen with the Veritaserum coursing in his blood flow. Then again, if Malfoy didn’t give a fuck what others thought, then maybe there was no real reason to stop, after all.

Malfoy chuckled quietly – slightly bitterly.  “New love interest, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Harry blurted, then cursed himself. It was the truth, though… or it must have been, because it was the Veritaserum that had forced him to say. Just not in the way Malfoy assumed it to be. An unexpected emotion disturbingly acing to pain flashed though his grey eyes and that was all it took for Harry to confess exactly who his new ‘love interest’ was, though he himself would rather not use such a strong word for it yet. “You.”

Instead of reacting like Harry had assumed him to, Malfoy scowled, jaw clenching. His eyebrows narrowed. “ _Very_ funny, Potter,” he spat. “Wrong answer.” Fingers suddenly pushed hard against _that_ place, and Harry arched as if pulled back by strings. He seemed to forget how to breathe. He could hear Malfoy’s ragged breath, falling hot and heavy over his neck.

_Oh, god._

He started rubbing against his prostate, and Harry’s body went rigid, a ramble of words falling of his lips that he couldn’t kept back thanks to the Veritaserum – mostly words like ‘please’, ‘fuck’, ‘oh’, ‘merlin’, ‘yes’, ‘Malfoy’ and ‘Draco’. It felt particularly embarrassing that he’d say Malfoy’s first name since that betrayed he didn’t think of him as strictly ‘Malfoy’… but apparently he apparently needed the clue.

“Fuck, Draco…” he managed to say, "what is the use of giving me Veritaserum… if you don’t believe what I say!?” the last part left his mouth in an angry hiss, jerking Malfoy’s attention to his eyes. Harry locked their gaze, allowing him to see his frustration and sincerity.

It didn’t seem to be enough to pacify Malfoy.

“Of course I don’t believe you,” he said. “You _hate_ me. You’ve avoided me like the pest since we left school, and I bet you regretted every second since for saving my life. You won’t even look at me!”

Harry felt a twinge of guilt. He’d had no reason for ignoring him other than for something that happened years ago… and his own conflicted feelings. While he had argued others to give Malfoy a second chance, he’d seemed unable of doing so himself.

“I’ve never been anything but a nuisance to you,” said Malfoy. His eyes flicked with an anger that slowly became more and more dominant. Grey that had almost looked soft in a minute of vulnerability turned steelier than ever, cold and hard like iron. Harry didn’t doubt for a moment he used Occlumency against him. He felt a twinge of concern. Did he really think Harry would force himself into his head? Was that really what Malfoy thought he was trying to do?

And did he honestly believe Harry still thought so lowly of him?

It wasn’t true.

“Draco-“

“Don’t call me that.”

Malfoy, having forgotten his earlier actions for a more important matter, had gone back to simply holding his fingers in an off-handy way _that_ close to his prostate. Harry tried not to squirming in discomfort, but it was maddening, and he couldn’t resist pushing back against the floor.

A dark expression passed over the other’s features, and Malfoy twisted his fingers, pushed in a third and hit his prostate _hard_. Harry’s breath caught and his pulse jumped. A hand stroke possessively down the side of his torso, waist and hip in a long, uninterrupted gesture, lingering almost threateningly. Malfoy’s hand moved down his thigh and gripped hard, fingers digging into flesh and nails rasping down skin, drawing blood. When Harry whimpered, Malfoy’s eyes glinted with malice. 

The rational part of his mind told him he should be turned off by such sadistic behavior, and a concerned part of him still worried over how Draco was taking this and how hurt he appeared to be the moment before he closed himself of. How hurt he must still be behind this façade. The biggest part of his brain, however, was so aroused he couldn’t think.

Malfoy leaned over him like a dark shadow. He sucked marks into his skin, and his mouth opened and teeth rasped ominously over his jugular. Harry’s heart was thundering in his chest and he couldn’t make himself speak.  His rib cage was rising and falling rapidly.

Fingers trust into him so hard he threw his head back, hitting the floor.

When Malfoy picked up his wand Harry’s pulse raced, but somehow he still knew – or was stupid enough to actually trust – that Malfoy wouldn’t use any severely injuring spells on him. With a flick and a word his clothes were Vanished.

Harry was sweating. His fists clenched in their bounds, muscles flexing as he tried to pull free. Malfoy’s eyes roamed over his body, taking in the view.

“I thought you said I was your new love interest, Harry?” Malfoy said softly, tauntingly. “Yet you look so _very_ uncomfortable. Let me guess. Platonic love, only? As long as we don’t see each other?”

“Or _mutual_ love, perhaps?” Harry suggested dryly.

Malfoy sneered. “Mutual _hate_ , more likely.”                                                                                  

That was it.

Generating magic through his hands Harry managed to break the bounds and flip them around. “You’re an insufferable git, do you know that?” he snarled.

“Pleasant to finally hear your true thoughts,” said Malfoy. “You know, if you’d been honest earlier, you wouldn’t have-“

“Shut up!” growled Harry, slamming Malfoy against the floor to get his attention. He instantly regretted it, however, when he caught a spark of genuine fear in Draco’s eyes. Fear that Harry might truly hurt him, and knowledge that he deserved it, and shouldn’t have counted Harry incapable of doing so.

Harry drew a slow breath. “I wasn’t finished,” he said, forcing himself to speak quietly. “You’re an insufferable git, and though something is probably wrong with my head, I _do_ like you.”

“I…” said Malfoy. His conviction seemed to finally have left him and he didn’t appear to know what to believe. His gaze flicked uncertainty between Harry’s eyes, as if searching him.

Harry threw up his arms. “You’re supposed to be _cunning_!”

“You… like me?”

“You’re hot as fuck, and you’ve got an interesting personality,” Harry allowed, breaking eye-contact to glare at a corner at the other side of the room, sulking. Thankfully, the Veritaserum let him off with that confession.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking back at him through the corner of his eye. “The question is whether or not _you_ genuinely care about me or just want to hurt me for pleasure.”

Malfoy flinched.

Harry almost regretted his words, except, he didn’t. If they wanted to attempt to start something between them – which indeed _was_ insane – they needed to learn to speak to each other.

Part of him wondered if Malfoy was still too proud for anything to work out. Harry wasn’t going to live with a person who treated him inferior, much less abused him, or took advantage of him whenever he had a weak moment.  Of course, _living_ together was jumping way ahead in time.

“I’m sorry,” said Draco.  He looked like he thought himself deserving of drowning to death in bubotuber pus, and Harry’s resolve softened. Malfoy still didn’t meet his eyes, though. “Not about the tea,” he said, and smiled weakly, though he looked terribly insecure in doing so, “Not even about kissing you. But I regret not stopping when you told me to – and meant it.”

“Look at me,” said Harry, because even if Malfoy looked guilty as hell, Harry needed to know that harmful shield was gone. The shield Malfoy had used against Voldemort, the shield he had used to hide his real feelings when being ordered to commit crimes, the shield that  that allowed himself to harden himself _wasn’t_ one Harry was going to let him use on him. Not again.

Malfoy looked eyes with him for only a brief moment before he looked away in shame, but that was enough for Harry to see he’d laid down his guard and risked vulnerability to have a chance with him – and that he had forced himself to meet his eyes, give Harry a chance to read his mind, out of free will. Simply because Harry asked him to.

“I’m sorry for a lot of the things in the past, too,” Malfoy added. “It seems… I regret most of my life. I thought I’d stopped that, but…” His voice trailed off.

Harry picked up his wand, and Malfoy stiffened. He didn’t draw his own, though, which was a good sign. Harry gave him a reassuring smile and with a flick Vanished Malfoy’s clothes. Really, it wasn’t fair he was the only one naked.  Screw unwritten rules and prejudices. No one was here to see them.

“O-oh,” said Draco, and really, he was quite cute, though Harry knew better than to say that. “I didn’t think you’d still want to- I mean, didn’t you-“

Harry kissed him. He felt the tension in Draco’s body disappear almost immediately, and shortly after hands were pulled through his hair, ruffling it up even worse. Harry made a mental note to wash his hair, later – he could probably pull Draco to the showers with him.

He moaned in approval as Draco dared pull his hands down his body. His cock twitched in anticipation as he drew circles below his hip bones. Draco lifted his hips as he pulled down Harry’s and he had to groan at the sensation of Draco’s length against his. His breath was quickly becoming ragged again. Draco pushed back against his shoulders, and though Harry was hesitant to get off him, he sat up.

Draco kissed his neck, lips and tongue moved down his chest, leaving trails of fire behind.  His knuckles brushed against his inner thighs and then fingers came to fondle his balls. A twinge of pleasure went straight to his cock and he gasped. Malfoy pushed him again, so he leaned back on his hands. His mouth moved down his abdomen, and-

_Oh, fuck._

Draco took him in his mouth and proceeded to give him what was probably the best blow-job of his life. Harry’s nails rasped into the mat underneath them as he felt hot waves wash through him as he got closer to release. As if to make up for earlier, Draco practically worshipped his body. Every touch was gentle and precise, and his mouth, lips and tongue so sinfully talented.  But the hottest thing was how he looked up and met Harry’s eyes, eyelids lowered and eyes heavy with seduction.

It took not little willpower to pull Malfoy away from him.

Harry pulled him to his lips, kissed him, and tasted some of his own pre-cum on his lips. He leaned his forehead against Draco’s shoulder to catch his breath before he could speak.

“I don’t want to come alone.” He leaned back, parted his legs and gave Draco a challenging look, lips twisting into a provoking smirk. “Come on. Work your magic.”

In reality, his heart was beating hard, fluttering nervously. Except for a drunken kiss once, he’d never been with a guy before, and he’d certainly not done _this_ before. But he refused to let his uncertainty show – or to even give Malfoy the edge of experience. He knew he wanted this, and considered what Draco had done to him earlier had felt so good, he’d no doubt he could make him feel like that again. God, that intense rubbing had been every bit as intense as Draco sucking him off. And he’d be damned if Draco didn’t feel pleasure as he came, too.

A smirk crept up Draco’s lips and he raised one fine eyebrow, every bit as challenging as Harry’s gaze.

“Are you sure about that, Potter?”

Harry huffed. “Are you scared, Malfoy? Maybe you’re not up for the job,” he said smugly. “What, too much pressure to please me now that you’ve got my consent?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. 

Harry leaned closer; let his lips graze the delicious skin at Draco’s neck.  So warm, smooth and soft. He flicked out his tongue and tasted a faint tint of salt.

“I don’t mind rough,” he whispered below his ear, and he could feel Draco shudder, hear his breath hitch. “The only problem I had with what you did before was that you didn’t listen to me, so get it out of your head if you don’t think I can’t take it.” He heard Draco groan, and smirked. Only a little prodding left to do. “There’s nothing you can do that will scare me.”

Draco pushed him back, and Harry felt himself slammed into the floor, a predatory look on Draco’s face.  “We’ll see,” chuckled Draco as he picked up his wand, pointing it at him. “Just tell me if you can’t take it…”

Harry scowled at him.           

Then he quite forgot to scowl, because he felt something wet and slippery inside him, and blushed. Draco caught his arm as he attempted to shuffle away, and his stomach twisted in a funny way as Malfoy’s hand slid over his thigh and higher up, intense grey eyes not letting go of his gaze until it was to flick down to between his legs and darken at the sight. Harry felt heat wash over his face and down his shoulders.

A finger probed him, and despite knowing what was coming – or maybe because he did – Harry whimpered.  The teasing finger slipped inside for only a moment before it left and Draco conjured more lube to coat himself in. The sight of him stroking his own cock was so erotic Harry couldn’t pull his eyes off it, not even when he felt Draco stare at him with what mostly likely was a far too cocky, smug expression for his own good. He was definitely big – and oh-so-well-shaped – but not so huge the idea of him inside him seemed impossible or unbearably painful. A little bit taunting, perhaps.

Harry braced himself as Draco leaned over him, pushing his legs back and parting them a little wider. Harry placidly spread his legs, feeling very much exposed under Draco’s gaze.

He closed his eyes to breathe, and then felt a warmth nudging against his hole. He held his breath as Draco entered him, waiting for the pain, but there was none, just a stretching, filling feeling. Despite Harry’s earlier goading, Draco pushed inside slowly, slowly as to not hurt him, and, getting no objective from Harry, stopped only when he was buried fully inside him. By then, Harry was panting softly. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it felt… weird. They took a minute to breathe.

“You okay?”

Harry was about to give some dry response when Draco – apparently sensing the words about to leave his mouth – tryingly rolled his hips into his, and Harry moaned as the moment sent a chock wave of pleasure through his body. He saw Draco biting into his lips, his face one of bliss, as he appeared to try to hold back some sound of pleasure, himself.

For some reason this agreed with the preconceived picture Harry had had of Draco during sex. Not too loud. Graceful, somehow, even in a moment like this. Draco was always graceful. The only moment he hadn’t been was that time when the fake Moody turned him into a ferret.

But there were also some things that weren’t as true. He wasn’t cold, for example. He didn’t only think of his own pleasure, but rather seemed to take pleasure _in_ pleasuring Harry. Oh, and in teasing him endlessly. In driving him mad with want and need. It wasn’t that Harry had assumed him to be bad at fucking, only quite loveless – self-pleasing above all else. 

He’d also gotten the impression that Draco might possibly have a thing for dirty talk, as well. That seemed to be part true, at least. He’d have to test that theory fully some other time.

Draco started slowly, but was soon slamming into him and Harry literally saw stars. Heat were building up in his abdomen and exploded just had Draco hit his prostate again. White, liquid fire splattered their bodies. Draco came not long after, and the sensation of heat spurting inside him was surprisingly pleasing – but then, Harry was so sensitive right now almost anything Draco did felt good. Draco pulled his hand over Harry’s cock, milking him of the last drops, and the collapsed on top of him, completely spent. Harry himself had never felt more tired after sex – never quite as sated, either – and his entire body felt heavy and sluggish.  He couldn’t make himself move and inch. The mat bellow them was rather soft, and with Malfoy laying in top of him the temperature was just right, too.  Who cared if it was a little harder to breathe in fully?

His hand found skin, and stroked leisurely at the small of Draco’s back. The action felt oddly calming.

“Wow,” said Harry.

Draco chuckled. “Yeah,” he murmured.

Harry had almost dozed off when Draco sat up. Harry peered at him with one eye, not entirely happy he’d lost his warm blanket, heavy as it might be. He continued to take a long, sweeping look over Draco’s torso. He then turned to look at the clock. It was almost past half six. He could hardly believe they’d been at it for _that_ long, but then, they had had quite a few lengthy arguments.

“Come,” said Draco. “Let’s at least drag ourselves to a bed.”

Harry grunted, swinging an arm over his eyes to block the light out. He’d be perfectly content to sleep right here.

“…you don’t want my mother to find us like this, do you?”

Harry sat up in a jerk, and Draco laughed before he used a cleaning charm on both themselves and his expensive mat.

“Don’t worry,” said Draco as he pulled a naked Harry through the door. "My mother is not home yet.” Harry was very hesitant to go out, but as it was Draco that had Vanished his clothes he couldn’t spell them back.  He eventually followed, the promise of a bed calling, feeling very exposed as he walked through Malfoy Manor in literally nothing. He hoped an unlucky House-Elf wouldn’t run into them. Evil as it might sound, he felt quite relieved Draco’s father was still locked in Azkaban.

A little later he fell into a bed that was both bigger and fluffier than any other bed he’d been in. He seemed to sink inches into the feathery material. Draco dropped down next to him. If Harry had started to wonder if he might just have made the biggest mistake of his life by sleeping with Draco Malfoy, the admiring glaze Draco gave him and the tiny smile playing in the corners of his lips reassured him. 

Then he turned serious. “Do you regret this?” Draco asked.

Harry stoked a stand of soft, blond hair from his face.  “No,” he said. And feeling the need to explain himself further, he continued.  “I honestly was worried of how others would see this. But I guess we can keep this a secret…”

Draco’s look turned carefully blank, but thankfully didn’t close off. “Yeah, right. Secret. Of course.”

Harry sighed. “Or not,” he said. “Listen, you’re the one who’s going to be given shit about this from the press and your family. It was _you_ I was worried about.“

“I don’t care about that,” said Draco. “But if you want to keep me a secret, that’s fine.” His voice said anything but, though.

Harry shook his head. “I’m quite used to the press now. But this is all so new. Let’s see how it works first. If we last more than a few weeks, I say we should tell our friends.”

Draco nodded, the guarded look melting of his face.  “I agree with that.”

Harry nudged him. “For all we know, you might have changed your mind by morning.”

Draco snorted. “You shouldn’t count yourself that lucky.”

Harry reached for his hand, thumb drawing lazy circles on it. “Nah,” he said. “I’ve always had a thing for luck.” Their eyes met. “Knowing my history with it, you’ll be stuck with me for life.”

Draco just looked at him, something warm, but unreadable, in his eyes. “You know,” he said after a minute. “I always though you hated me.” He still appeared confused and amazed that it wasn’t the case.

“I do hate you,” Harry grumbled. “My legs feel like gillyweed,” he continued, pulling a small smile from Draco’s lips.

“No, I mean, _really_ hated me. As in you couldn’t wait to graduate from Hogwarts to escape my presence. As in you probably threw a party for not having to see me around anymore.” He shook his head. “I was serious about what I said earlier. At least that part.”

“Then why would I save you in the first place, you stupid git?”

Draco blinked. “Actually, I _did_ believe that part about it being a matter of Gryffindor honor.”

Harry groaned. Out of everything, that was apparently the _only_ thing he’d believed.

Draco cleared his throat. “So that means… you’re okay with this?“

“No,” said Harry. “You’re too far away. Come ‘ere.”

Then Draco smiled, _really_ smiled, and Harry thought he’d be blinded. It was a sincere, honest smile, genuinely happy and not smug, and it was the most beautiful things he’d seen.  If Malfoy was handsome when he brooded, sexy when he smirked and hot when he glared, then he was absolutely drop-dead _gorgeous_ when he smiled. Harry all but swooned.

“Likewise,” said the unearthly creature in front of him, leaning closer. “Let’s fix that?”                            

“You know,” Harry said, overall appearing to be in some sort of trance. He let out a deeply besotted sigh as he met Draco’s lips for a chase kiss. “Whatever I did to make you smile… it was worth it.”

Draco shook his head ruefully. “This is why Malfoys should never, ever smile.”

**Author's Note:**

> Finally finished my first Draco x Harry fic. Though I’ve written several before, this is the first I’ve actually completed.  I belive I'm quite happy with how it turned out. :) Drarry is easily my favorite pairing in the Harry Potter verse. Finally, for anyone as obsessed with the pairing as I am, I’d recommend to read ‘Eclipse’ by Mijan. Every Draco and Harry shipper should read Eclipse.
> 
> But, please tell me – what do you think of ‘Veritaserum’? I’d love to hear you thoughts on this story. Reviews makes me a very, very happy author. They also tend to inspire new stories or encourage me to finish something I’ve written. :) And if you’ve gotten any must-read Drarry fic, please do share it with me!


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